A/N: Hello, dearest readers, on we go, rollercoaster down!
Mizz Alec Volturi, at least, help is coming!

Celebrisilweth, They'll try, of this I'm sure!

Eowyn Strmgheart, thanks for all the lovely reviews and support, it means a lot to me!
Kate T, as Freddie Mercury sang, "the show must go on". It's not something we have a choice on.
MamaDragon9711, Eowyn Strmgheart, Kate T, welcome on board and enjoy the ride!

=^.^= =^.^= =^.^=

Several Sides of a Coin

Legolas had some trouble imagining the crown of his father resting upon his brow, because those impish mortals kept exchanging words that interrupted his trail of thought. How could he envision the glory of his kingship while those two exchanged words of…

Headache.

The surges of headache had been inconveniently frequent since he woke up this… morning? Night? Who could tell?

He pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers, applying pressure to points that would relieve the headache.

Wait.

Why was it that his hands felt so heavy?

Turning disbelieving eyes to his wrists, the elf found out the obvious answer to his question.

Shackles.

Iron shackles.

He turned his attention to the two other inhabitants of the… dwelling? No way. Dungeon? …To frown was painful, as any movement, but quite expected when faced with a couple of mortals who looked at each other like if they were…

Perhaps…

To look at them brought him headaches again. Queasiness.

Those two could not be the culprit of his shackles, as they were bound to iron and stone, like him.

Who, then?

And why?

The two beings he beheld sent him glances now and then, not repulsive or judging, but full of hope and… care? Was that a good word? When did he begin to care about how words depicted by people referred to him? Wasn't he the crown prince of Mirkwood and…

Why did his realm carry such title?

The exponents of two sub-races stared at him. He could see their lips moving, their eyes shining with something… a feeling? Was it a thing amongst them, the… the… feelings?

The mortals were shackled, distant enough one from the other that they couldn't touch hands, but they reached out to him. His first thought on their action was to dub them pathetic, but there was something…

"Come on. We will make it."

The words of the dwarf were baffling. Where did they want him to come? Across the place to discuss the quality of the shackles, perhaps? What would they make? How…

The woman looked at the dwarf, and then to him, and smiled. Her mouth was bruised, as half of the skin he could see, yet she smiled.

"Legolas, please. We know you can."

Why did she call him by a name opposite to the name of his realm? How could it be he was a green leaf and his realm a mirk-wood… He could never be the king of such a realm with the name he carried. He should change his name, probably, but…

"He will wake up." One of them said.

"He'd better. I kind of got affectionate to our chaperone."

"Do you think he hears us? I didn't hear your voice at first."

"Even if he doesn't hear us, we will make it out of here, we both and him too. One doesn't simply leave a friend behind in Dol Guldur."

So many words, so many chances to make his head hurt…

"Legolas, wake up, please! We need you!"

"Tilda, may I use some unseemly truth?"

"What? Well, anything that helps, I guess."

A certain voice spoke volumes inside his head, but he couldn't figure out why.

It felt as if someone was whispering close to his ear, yet he knew it was not possible. The voice of the dwarf echoed inside his ear:

"Even Galion would do better!"

Frowning at the irrelevant statement, Legolas kept quiet, just watching his co-hostages from the corner of his eye.

Seemingly, the woman didn't take it well.

"Kíli, really? What do you think it will do to Legolas? Make him jump out of frustration hard enough to deliver him from his shackles? Just because you mentioned his father's butler?"

"Ah, well…"

The dwarf (Kíli, was that the name? Something convinced Legolas that that name was something important to him…) turned his words to him.

"Legolas. Come back to us. We don't have much of a chance, but little chance is more than no chance at all. And we… I…" His voice almost faltered, even with all conditioning he received from the cradle from his uncle Thorin and his arms master Dwalin. "We care for you. We won't leave you behind. You're not a dwarf, but… You're not less deserving. Of our efforts, I mean. And… you are our chaperone, so… we care for you and… By Durin's beard, just get out of this trance, will, ya?"

The sound of the voices of his companions of cell (a cell? When did he get the idea that they were inside a cell?) was confusing, most of the time. The name he mentioned, Galion, touched something too, a memory of warmth and smell of fresh baked bread. It had to mean something…

At a time Legolas couldn't ascertain, what his partners in shackles said became less confusing and more… didactic? They were talking about him, yet it wasn't about his kingship over Mirkwood. Which was bad. But some words explained it was not important. Which was confusing. And the human whore didn't seem to be really a whore, and… Even the dwarf didn't seem as disgusting as he should. They talked about things…

"I love you, Kíli."

"I love you too, Tilda of my heart. We will get out of this together."

"Aye. But not without Legolas."

Oh, of course there would be a 'but', a condition they envisioned that would only be possible by his efforts and gifts. That was it. He was just a tool, a convenient piece of the mesh they were spinning, a…

"Of course not. I would never leave him behind." The Kíli looked at the elf, dirty from messed up hair to barefooted toes, who snarled at him. "He was the one who threw Orcrist to Thorin when he needed it the most, to overthrow the white orc. It was not out of pity or duty, it came from his righteous heart."

Tilda noticed how intent Legolas' eyes were on them, and understood what Kíli was trying to do. Not quite different from what her dwarf did to her, but, would it work?

"He is righteous, honourable, Tilda. He is one who would give up anything for the sake of justice, I swear, because I witnessed it."

"I… understand…"

She tried Kíli's words on her tongue, and found them clean, and true. But, would it work on the elf, more stubborn than many a dwarf? And how much more due to the foul potion they had been forced to swallow?

=^.^=

To be a subject of King Thranduil was an honour. He was loyal and fair to his people, no elf would dispute his qualities as a ruler. A bit extravagant in his tastes? Maybe. Way too supercilious regarding their mortal neighbours, especially the ones of lower stature? Undoubtedly. But he was a good king, nonetheless.

What his personal guard, well trained and highly experienced warriors, seasoned by thousands of years of exertion in martial arts, disciplined as only an obsessed raccoon could resemble, could barely stand was his impulsiveness. From calm lake to vigorous thunderstorm it was just the blink of an eye. From cold strategist to berserk fighter – with interesting results in a battle, to say the least.

Also, from untouchable boss to compassionate leader. From stern progenitor to playful father. From pragmatic consort to fiery lover. But this part was just a legend, rumours spread long ago by chambermaids who witnessed and cleansed the aftermath of nights of luxury.

But this is just a digression. What matters in the current case is how fierce was Thranduil's love for his son, and how fast the king could change his demeanor when faced with evidences that someone he loved was in danger. And his pyramid of priorities was topped by Legolas.

So, all his personal guard could do was to jump on their mounts and hurry after their king, knowing he would lead them to where they were needed the most – currently, wherever their brother in arms, their fellow spider-hunter, could have been stolen to. He was more than the prince of the realm, the son of their king – he was one of them, and they wouldn't let him down.

=^.^=

It was a surprise the forest even existed there yet. The leaves were rugged, trunks twisted and dry. One who wished for firewood just had to step into that range and get it, if said one dared to.

Because it wasn't just the dead trees and the grim scenery. It was the very atmosphere surrounding it. If evil could ever be tasted, it would be licked on the lips of anyone walking into those grounds, like salt air on the lips of someone reaching a beach. The tall fortress on a bald hill, too much stone around the castle to allow trees to grow – yet delicate herbs and flowers decorated those walls and cliffs in days of yore, when Oropher ruled there.

"So, this is the place."

Bard whispered his worry, acknowledging the fortress was more than he set out to defeat. One thing was to believe his daughter had been kidnapped by random bandits or even fretful despised candidates, other was to recognize she had been taken to a place of evil and sorcery. It didn't matter she was already twenty-one and a healer on her own, Tilda would always be his younger one, a child who needed his protection and love.

And that horrid place didn't provide neither.

"Direct attack doesn't seem wise."

Of all Thorin's counsellors, it had to be Dwalin to point out the obvious. Even if said obvious contradicted Dwalin's usual ways.

"Well, Broda keeps heading there to. It has to mean something. Or do ye believe the horse has no nose?"

Thorin rolled his eyes at his sister's logic, mostly because he couldn't oppose it.

"This is the place." Thorin answered Bard and none else. "It was of elvish making, like Gundabad was of dwarven making. It means one can't count on its original purpose. Orcs and their masters corrupted this place."

Dunwine offered his own two coppers, having earned the confidence of his peers in chase along the road and also having Bard's approval on his actions.

"Despite the burned camp, we don't know what their forces really are. I wouldn't risk a horse on that bridge."

Indeed, there was a bridge crossing a deep cliff, ragged stones inviting any curious being to find out what the true colour of their bones was like.

"So, in short, we need to scout, take account of their numbers and intentions, find the prisoners and escape routes, trace a plan and get them out the sooner the better."

Several pairs of eyes turned to the short fellow who put up his chin while wiggling his thumbs underneath the suspenders keeping his trousers in place.

"So, what?"

Bilbo inquired none in particular, yet daring all of them at once.

"I wouldn't say your proposition is void of value, master holbitla, but how do you suggest we accomplish it, pray?"

Dunwine slowly spoken words weren't rude on purpose. He just didn't know who that little fellow really was, or his hidden capabilities. Thorin, on the other side, knew better, and even Bard had some clues from when Bilbo got through the whole of Thranduil's army and the ragged remains of the people of Laketown to offer a stone on behalf of peace, so he just smiled with the pride of having such a friend, crinkling the edge of his eyes. The hobbit remained unfazed.

"Oh, I may do it. The scouting, I mean. Bring back information."

He looked up from face to face, assessing their reactions, weighing how to convince each of them that he really could be of use. Bilbo considered he was having some success when he noticed Fíli was holding back a chuckle. The members of the Company knew about his meeting with the Gollum creature in the entrails of the Misty Mountains, and what he got out of it.

"Bilbo, don't!" Dís tried to demand. "You might be lightfooted and more able than most people to hide yourself, but this doesn't mean you can turn invisible and avoid all of the risk! I won't allow it!"

Now it was Thorin's turn to hide a chuckle, knowing more of his treasured burglar than his sister, despite Dís' claim on the hobbit as her fiancé. Yet, Bilbo didn't take it so lightly, and the next thing he said could even put their relationship at risk.

"I'm not your possession to be allowed to do something or not, Dís. I'm my own self, as you are your own self and I'd never, mind you, never, demand you to do or don't do anything different from your own volition. Now, we have really strong reason to believe Tilda was captured and is currently held in that accursed fortress, and no strong reason to believe Kíli isn't there too, as we saw evidence that he went after her and no evidence on the contrary, or of his success. So, I don't care what you fancy to allow me or not, I'll do what must be done. I'm sorry."

The tone of his 'I'm sorry' was as apologetic as when Balin and Dwalin were riding his pantry and he explained that he, like most hobbits, liked to have visitors, just it wasn't a welcome thing when he didn't know visitors were to come, and/or he didn't know said visitors at all. Which means, no apologetic at all.

Surprisingly, Thorin stepped into the discussion to appease Dis' wrath and calm down Bilbo's resentment.

"Dunwine, Bilbo is more capable than many may dream of. The same I can say to Dís." He turned in earnest to her, placing his hands on her shoulders and piercing her eyes with his own sapphire ones. "Sister, trust me. If Erebor is ours again, it is because of Bilbo, of his capabilities. If he was good enough to fool a dragon, do you deem him unable to dodge and avert some orcs?